Angelwind Post
by NarwhalsLoveDonuts
Summary: Syndrome is rebuilding himself, slowly but surely, hidden away from the rest of the world. However, a devastating storm sends a visitor with an unusual job to his island, but she seems more interested in completing her task than she is in foiling this fallen villain. But can he be sure that's really what she's up to?


Rain like a herd of wild, galloping stallions pounded against the shield of the storm shelter. Islands were known for getting ravaged by storms, and, of course, he had seen very many of them, so this was no hardship to him; he knew his fortress would hold, but, man, this was a doozy!

Security personnel had been running around for the past 2 days securing everything that wasn't bolted to the ground. The trees would hold- they were warriors who feared nothing and had seen everything at this point, but the cameras and surveillance equipment dotting the shrubbery and expanse of the island layout would not be undamaged once those winds came in.

So it looked like everything was down for the count at this point. Some of the employees had flown inland to avoid the storm, but a strong crew was still helping at the base. There was always something to do, and, being the boss of the whole operation, he needed bodies to occupy the testing rooms, labs, and surveillance booths while he master-mined. However, in preparation for the disaster, everyone was running here and there doing something, while he was left drinking his choice of poison and pacing recklessly in his personal quarters, just waiting, earpiece poised against his temple, his mouth unable to utter a sound, as he could think of nothing that could be done while waiting for the approach of the storm. He felt the need to bark an order, make someone move for him, or... _something! _

With a frustrated grunt, he jerked his pacing to a stop and deftly clicked his earpiece.

"Security Team 5! I want at least one camera in working order in every major area of the island! All sound bugs and heavy surveillance can be removed and transferred to the warehouses until the storm subsides!" he growled over the speaker. He didn't like his systems being down even more than he disliked being immobile in his operations. He needed to hear and see everything to keep him sane. Anything less made him anxious. However, hopefully they should have everything back up within three days, but, god, if that wasn't almost an allusion to infinity at this point.

"Yes sir!" came the reply.

"I'm heading your way to check the outpost," he said, already out the door. He would have had a majestic cape swirling behind him, but the accidents of the past made him none-the-wiser. He had traded in his old apparel for a skin-hugging black and chrome uniform adorned with an "S", elegantly snaking its way down his chest and torso, and, underneath, his left leg for a chrome and titanium limb. Oh, he knew all too well that the wounds of the past never heal. His form cast a menacing shadow as he strode regally though the dimly lit ashen white and faux stone tunnels snaking their way underground towards his destination, thinking about the incident that led him to his new base. Even far below, in the belly of the earth, he could hear the furious howling of the wind and feel the shaking of the ground, but, still, he stepped quickly, more or less indifferent to nature's might. There was no damage that nature could do that couldn't be fixed with technology.

He quickly pulled himself out of his post-brooding thoughts as he stepped in front of the automatic doors. He very nearly ran into them, and cursed the power-saving mode he has recommended, proceeding to irritably push them open himself, quietly hoping that no one saw him standing there like an idiot.

"Sir! Technicians cleared the areas of the cameras. We scanned before removing the equipment, leaving only the basic functions running."

"Great," he nodded absently, ignoring the lack of greeting. "I'll take it from here." The four techies looked up in surprise.

"Sir?"

"Do I need to repeat myself?" he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. Within a moment, the men were gone, and he was standing by himself in the darkened room, blue tints, static, and blurry images glaring from the screens before him. He just needed to occupy my mind with something other than food and mindless drivel, but they didn't need to know that. His chest was heaving slightly, as if he had just done something strenuous, but he knew that it was all just in his head. He needed something to occupy his mind... something other than this... drudgery that the storm was forcing onto him. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, right? Then again, working hands would probably get him into the same, if not more, trouble that idle hands would.

He suddenly felt tired. He plopped down and glanced meekly at the screens, their glass getting whipped with rain from the storm. Why did he even bother? The storm would just distort the feed, so if they picked anything up, it's not as if they could spot a potential threat. UGH... well, keeping the busywork up for the guards seemed like a good way to keep paying them while also keeping them available at the base.

Small beeps and the faint echo of the ferocity outside was the only noise while he lowered his elbows to the edge of the keyboards and his face to his hands. Strands of escaped, fiery red hair wisped over his forehead and edges of his face, causing his cheeks to tickle, but he made no motion to remove them. He remembered growing his hair out at the peak of his physical shape, doing his best to impress the beautiful platinum-haired temptress who was so drawn in by his power... long hair was sexy, right? And any hope of facial hair had been long gone ever since he had tried growing it out in the beginning of his college days and had gotten mercilessly mocked by his peers about his patchy beard and nearly nonexistent mustache. It didn't matter, though; he got the most beautiful woman when it was all said and done. His looks, his smarts, his daring... he finally forced himself to be the opposite of everything he was to become what he wanted to be. In the end, he had lost it all... all his money was lost when that man, who was formerly his _hero_, destroyed all that he had worked for. He lost his beautiful girlfriend, his money, his power, and... well, his life. He was dead. As far as anyone else knew, he still was. Rumor had it that the NSA had found part of his mutilated remains, and they were being stored somewhere for future use.Whether any of that is true or not remains to be seen, but, one thing's for sure- a leg was a small price to pay for the suffering he had endured. All of the articles, new segments, press conferences, hell, he felt dead. He could rebuild his body, but there was more damage done to just what anyone could plainly see.

"God..." the small, ghostly voice out of the silence from this almighty once-"hero" nearly made him jump. He hated getting this way, but maybe this storm would finally be the thing to destroy everything, for the final time. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

One blink. His mind was suddenly foggy. Why was everything so dark? The lights... they kept flickering, continuing to repeated dim and light up the room. Was there a brown-out? He bolted up quickly. Hell, had he been asleep? For how long? What was happening? In sync with the lights, the monitors kept going dark and then sparking back on suddenly. He was no fool; he had backed up the camera links to keep them from rebooting. However, a few of the screens in question were displaying nothing but grainy static. He gritted his teeth. It was to be expected, but that didn't mean that he liked flying blind. He glanced at one of the few lit TVs, and raised an eyebrow. The rain came down in torrenting sheets, and the trees blasted sideways in the howling wind. His ears picked up the sounds of water and crashing. The base sure was taking one hell of a beating, but it would hold.

"SIR?" came the blare of the intercom. He jumped, very nearly knocking over the content of the desks. He tore up the receiver, suddenly wondering why he wasn't being paged via earpiece.

"WHAT?" he snapped, his heart still galloping from the scare.

"Are you alright?" came the urgent call.

"Of course I'm alright!" came his indignant reply. "What's going on?"

"We tried to get into the main surveillance area only to find that the doors had been sealed from the inside! The remaining security screens have been reloaded in section C to keep an eye on things. We've been trying to reach you-" The lights and intercom simultaneously went out and buzzed back on again. "-someone was outside!"

"Wait, WHAT? Commander, you cut out! Is someone-?" The intercom went dead again. A wild roar of curses rushed forth from angry lips and he fumbled with his cardkey, inserted into a slot on the switchboard, opened a plastic case, and hammered the release switch with a wrath that could easily rival the storm raging outside. The doors released with a hiss, as he stormed through the corridors, determined to find out what the hell was going on inside his base.

Before he could even turn the corner, a recon team had already come blazing through the hall in panicked frenzy.

"Sir!" their leader called out, obviously relieved to find his boss in one piece. The soldiers jogged their way over to their nearly-unhinged superior.

"MEN! What is happening here?" he screamed, his eyes burning with fury, his palms facing upwards with his fingers rigidly curled inward like angry claws. Being blind was one thing, but being completely uninformed made his blood boil. He needed eyes working for him. Isn't that what he paid people for?

"Sir! The storm took out cameras in 8 areas. Several cameras are no longer in service, but we have relevant feed on one of the back-up shelter cams that lead us to believe that someone is... out there."

He took a moment to scoff.

"Not possible, this storm has ripped up half of the island. If anyone is out there, they're-"

"_THERE_!" came a sudden call from the opened security room. He turned and bolted back into the room where a technician was pointing at one of the muted screens. The man moved aside and let his boss take over. He squinted at the screen, leaning in with hands either side of the monitor. Grey trees were raging in the wind, everything nearly horizontal with the ground. It was difficult to see anything through the sheets of rain mercilessly ravaging the area. He could only hear the rumble of the storm from above and the whirring of the tired machines. The troop sent to search for him were now silent, flanking him and waiting for a response.

"_THERE!_" came the second yell, exactly the same as the first, which was completely unnecessary, considering the two men were right next to each other. He nearly opted to berate the techie right there on the spot, except, he too, finally saw the flash of white on the screen.

There was a steel pole staked into the ground in front of this camera. It was suppose to have held a camera and have a false tree built around it, but it seems that the winds ripped everything away and left the metal skeleton to remain in wake of the howling storm. The pole itself was holding up, but just barely. However, it wasn't the pole he was interested in; it was the lone, silent, pale form that was clinging so desperately to it that caught and held his full, undivided attention.


End file.
